


Calm After The Storm

by tinknevertalks



Series: Fictober 2018 [8]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, pregnancy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 03:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Home safe again, Nikola hovers over Helen.





	Calm After The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Day eight, and I still had baby stuff on the brain (will do until about mid-March - afterwards I will have swiss cheese in my skull). A follow up to day seven.
> 
> Prompt: I know you do.

They arrived back in one piece - Helen still pregnant, Lin slightly subdued (almost shell shocked). Nikola found both in the infirmary, Helen checking Lin’s blood pressure as the younger woman hummed to herself.

“I often wonder…” Helen murmured quietly, her hand touching Lin’s.

Nikola watched as Lin’s gaze seemed to unfocus before snapping back to Helen’s. “I know you do. But it’ll be fine. Chelsea will surprise you.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “We’re not calling the baby Chelsea.”

“We could always call him Brixton,” Nikola said from his place by the door.

“Hackney,” Lin suggested.

He grinned, walking to the two. “Finchley.”

“I work with children,” Helen groaned, ripping off the blood pressure cuff.

Nikola said, “But you know we love you,” as he touched her stomach. “How is our new strain of gastrointestinal distress today?”

“Active,” came her succinct reply, although Lin smothered a chuckle as she hopped off the table. Nikola didn’t ask - Lin laughed at the oddest stray thought - he just smiled as little one kicked his hand. “Don’t encourage him, child, or he’ll keep poking your home,” she warned, smiling indulgently down at her bump as she covered his hand.

“Aww, you two are so cute! It’s adorable!” Nikola glared at Lin as Helen rolled her eyes, indulgent again. “I know, I know, death wish calling a vampire cute. If you need me,” she slipped her Farnsworth into her back pocket, “I’ll be sleeping for about five zillion hours…

“Just,” her eyes flicked down to Helen’s pregnant stomach, “don’t call me if you need a midwife.”


End file.
